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blasphemecel · 5 months

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Michael Kaiser — Mean

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 6.4k TYPE: Fake dating, This is not fluff or angst but a secret third thing (with a cheerful ending) WARNING(S): Depersonalization/identity issues

The first time you meet Michael Kaiser, you get a bad impression.

Yeah, sure, he doesn’t have the most stellar reputation, anyway. You’ve met all sorts of unpleasant people in your life and he manages to disappoint even when the bar is so low, the only way to go lower is through digging.

You don’t exchange a word with him, but rather you have the misfortune of having to listen to him talk throughout the entire meeting. He starts countless arguments, some valid to an extent. You can tell he’s just doing this because he’s addicted to the sound of his voice and speaking to people like they’re unimportant specks of dust all while commanding their attention. There’s no point to his fussing either because he ends up signing the same contract you do.

Waste of your goddamn time — he might as well have not signed it and saved you the trouble, since the ordeal ends up lasting three hours because of him.

Maybe you should’ve not signed it yourself, but your PR manager was salivating at the idea of fake dating as a publicity stunt, especially with Kaiser who’ll be posing with you for a photoshoot in a few months, so you said ‘whatever’ and here you are. In this predicament with an insufferable man you imagine you won’t get along with, which already predisposes you to never giving him a chance.

___

The first time you speak to Michael Kaiser, you unsettle him.

It’s unlike him to feel disturbed, let alone at the slightest thing. He’s met all sorts of sickos, so he considers himself unflinching in the face of anyone who has anything off about them.

But he’s fifteen minutes late to the ‘date’ you’re supposed to use as a tool to subtly launch your fake relationship and he’s expecting a scolding. Kaiser spots you and heads in your direction, taking the seat in front with a shitty smirk and an ingenuine, half-assed apology on his lips.

What he gets in response is a blank look — almost… unimpressed, which naturally someone like Kaiser takes as a challenge and already sets the tone for the rest of the conversation — and it’s as if you’re staring into his soul. Then in an instant your expression flips to convincing joy, your warm smile contrasting his snide one, and you say, “Let’s act like we’re really stoked.”

A chill runs down his spine. On a logical level Kaiser knows you’re faking it, but it looks real, and that’s what he finds freaky. Also, the speed.

“Let’s not,” he says. “You’re weird,” he adds after you don’t respond.

You don’t react to this information either and settle for maintaining your smile.

The barista decides to spare him from having to look at you while you don’t say anything. He’s pretty sure you’re doing this deliberately, to torture him. When you attempt to order something, he talks over you and asks, “Can you give us one of those shitty milkshakes with two straws in them?”

She stares at him in bewilderment. “We don’t sell those,” she says eventually.

“Can you make one?”

“No…”

“You’re scum,” you tell him, dropping the happy facade. Again, the quickness strikes Kaiser as disturbing. Then you give her a valid order, and he asks for water since they offer that everywhere and he can’t be bothered to read the menu. After the barista leaves, you say, “I could have lactose intolerance.”

“You could. I could be trying to kill you.”

“I don’t know if a milkshake would be enough to kill me.”

“Maybe I was trying to give you a stomach ache,” he concurs.

You don’t dignify that with a reply either.

Kaiser tries to speak with you again, “I really fucking hate milk.”

“Then why’d you do that?”

“To embarrass you, of course,” he says, like he’s revealed to you the natural order of things.

“Hm.” You consider this new information. “I’ll definitely think of a way to get back at you.”

The lukewarm threat seems to amuse him more than anything.

Then you proceed to have a hostile few hours together in public as instructed. You end up throwing napkins at his face.

Kaiser isn’t good at pretending to be in love. The only such image he seems capable of projecting is one of a middle schooler who’s failing to find a balance between playful and mean. Though it also doesn’t matter to you because you mostly teeter on the edge of mean, slightly left of apathetic. Nothing really matters to you.

___

For your second court-ordered date with Michael Kaiser, your manager tells you to get caught holding hands with him at a park after the cafe meeting doesn’t spark much controversy. The notion itself has you scrunching your face, but you don’t complain about it or voice your opinion.

Again, he’s late picking you up by a not negligent amount of time, leaving you to stand in front of your building, motionless and impatient.

Instead of announcing his presence in a more acceptable manner, Kaiser blares the car horn until you realize it’s him. After you crawl inside the passenger seat, you turn to look at him and see that he looks very pleased with himself. It’s obnoxious.

“I hope we die in a car crash,” you greet.

“We won’t.” You don’t know why, but his brain interprets this as an opportunity to brag. “I’m an excellent driver.”

He’s not. Somehow you make it to the park without getting into a catastrophe — which, as established, you wouldn’t have minded.

You exit at the same time and Kaiser frowns at you by the time he circles his way around to you. You don’t care enough about what’s bothering him to raise a questioning eyebrow let alone ask, but he tells you, “I was going to open the door for you and then offer to help you up. You ruined everything!”

You roll your eyes. “How gallant.”

“Get back in,” Kaiser says, pointing (as if the gesture will be enough to convince you to play along). “Let’s redo it.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. I have a vision for these kinds of things, that’s all.”

“Your vision is trashy and uninspired,” you reject promptly.

Kaiser seems to be the first person in the world who finds your attitude funny rather than objectionable because he grins at your response. But he’s more so looking at you like you’re a bug he finds fascinating in comparison to the rest, without any real respect or acknowledgement.

“I admit maybe it was a bit cliche,” he says. “Would’ve made me look good, though, if someone caught it on camera.”

You smile that ghoulish smile again and grab his hand like you were told. His fingers are cold and yours even more so, making the grasp clammy and uncomfortable while you begin your stroll. You don’t even know what you’re supposed to talk about with him. Soon enough, you scowl, both the silence and the sensation of getting touched proving too much for you to hide your displeasure, even though Kaiser seems content with letting the silence fester.

“Oh? Why’d you stop? I’ve started enjoying your creepy masquerading.”

“I’m disgusted,” you say.

“Disgusted,” he repeats. “By what? Me?”

“It’s making me sick. Who knows where your hand’s been or what you’ve done.”

Albeit visibly offended for the first time if the lack of an annoying smirk is anything to draw judgments from, Kaiser drops it first. Your arm hangs by your side again, limp.

“Let go, then. Or do I need to do everything myself?” That’s quite a dramatic sentiment coming from a man who has done nothing all day besides a short drive and taking a few steps.

“But my manager said-”

“Who cares? I think my manager’s lucky I agreed to this bullshit in the first place,” Kaiser says. “By the way, my hands haven’t been in any sewers or anything to warrant this reaction, thank you very much.” He must be the type of person who only ever says thank you as if being grateful is some big joke.

“I’m not being literal. I know who you are and what people say about you. My disgust is conceptual.”

“Flattering.” Kaiser’s pleased again with the mention of this tidbit, like the mental image he’s getting of you searching him up gives him immeasurable amounts of satisfaction. One thing you’ve come to notice about him since your last outing is that he’s shameless. “You’re not special, though. Lots of people know who I am.”

“See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re scum.”

“Do you usually talk to people you barely know in this way or is it preferential treatment? I’d love preferential treatment, but the other option is amusing too.”

“Usually,” you say in a monotone. “That’s why I don’t speak much. More so supposed to be looked at rather than heard, and so on.” You finish off your explanation with a flippant gesture. That’s what it’s like for you — ‘shut your trap, it ruins your appeal.’

“Well, I-” there’s an emphasis on the word ‘I’ because Kaiser always thinks his opinion matters, “-think your worldview is pathetic and embarrassing. What’s the point of being looked at if no one will listen to you? How can you be fine with that?”

Fair point. You concede in your head, but don’t commit to agreeing with him out loud. “You’re not special either. Most people gross me out.”

“You hurt me this time.” He’s sneering, though.

After a while of walking, you find yourself sitting on a bench next to him. A few pigeons strut around near your feet, bobbing their heads back and forth, almost catching a groove. “If I had any bread, I’d feed them.”

“I’m not surprised you’d feel interested in such a commoner’s activity,” Kaiser says, as if he is somehow superior to you for not wanting to participate in this.

“Vile,” you say, voice still neutral. You’re not looking at him either, attention glued to the birds.

He doesn’t know which part of it you find dismaying — was it the class shaming or what? “So you like pigeons, but you hate humanity. You’re one of those.”

“I don’t hate humanity,” you say. “But nature is repulsive by default. It’s not amoral. When we’re cruel and ugly, that’s a conscious and opportunistic decision. Every day CEOs throw their employees and workers under the bus for more profits. Someone��s getting murdered as we speak. We’re faking a relationship to attract brand deals. I’m getting sick just thinking about it.”

“Get a hobby instead of thinking about stupid shit like that. Caring about how ugly and bleak everything is won’t get you anywhere,” Kaiser… advises.

“Look at the pigeons.” You’re watching the one with the missing claws, wobbling and struggling to get around. “Humans domesticated them and then abandoned them. I love flora and fauna. They’re interesting and exist much more differently than we do.”

“Does that mean you like my tattoo then?”

“Not everything needs to be about you. It’s not like people will forget you exist when you don’t force yourself to be at the center of conversation.”

This stings him the tiniest bit. Either you’re probing into an insecurity or he’s reading too deep into what you’re gathering from your conversations with him. “If I wanted to have a pseudointellectual conversation, I wouldn’t ask a vapid model to psychoanalyze me.”

“Your opinions are unoriginal and stereotyped just like your ideas about romance,” you say, finally turning around to face him again with those haunted eyes. He’s unamused now, clenching his jaw and all. “A stupid athlete wouldn’t be my first choice for a ‘pseudointellectual conversation’ either.”

“You look down on others and judge them, so what makes you so different from all those ‘scum’ you hate? How are you exempt from your own standards?”

Do you realize you’re displaying similar behaviors to those you’re scolding him over?

“Well, there’s a simple explanation for that,” you say. Kaiser is expecting an argument or something, but you kind of floor him with your follow-up. “It’s called hypocrisy. I’m probably just as disgusting as the average person.”

“Your life must be miserable if you look at everything through this lens. What was the phrase, rose colored glasses? Yours must have shit smeared over them.”

You shrug then make a 50/50 motion with your hand. “My life’s neither good nor bad. I’m indifferent on the subject.”

“Uh huh.” Kaiser considers this, then his lips twitch up, and then his smile broadens — it’s snide and smug again, and you come to the realization that he probably doesn’t know how to smile in any other way — before he inches a little closer to you. Not enough to brush against you, but enough to count as an attempted provocation. “I think people like you shouldn’t be considered alive. Legally speaking. And if we’re being figurative, you’re obviously already dead.”

You frown at him, since he’s kind of right. The fact that Michael Kaiser has the capability to discern truths you don’t want to hear rubs you the wrong way.

“Speaking of birds,” you start, deciding to change the topic, “you remind me of a peacock.”

“Wrong.” He’s pouty now. You find the expression cute, but when you catch the thought you throw up in your mouth a bit, so you ignore it. “I’m clearly a swan.”

“The fact that you have a preference when it comes to what animal you’re considered is sad.”

“And you’re entertaining. Let’s hang out again soon even if those sorry fucks don’t suggest it.”

You find it bewildering how he calls his PR manager’s input a ‘suggestion’ and seems to think he can do whatever he wants. Which, maybe he does, seeing the way he conducts himself. You’re also tempted to tell him to make up his mind on whether he enjoys your company or not, but there are more important matters right now. “We’re not supposed to do that, I don’t think.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that.”

“Why this desire all of a sudden?”

“It’s what I want.” What impeccable reasoning. “I think I can make you enjoy yourself,” he says. “Don’t get me wrong. Not for your merit or anything stupid.” Kaiser offers what you’d describe as a flamboyant hand wave in the air, demeanor laced with complacency. “I think it’d make me feel really charitable and generous if I can manage to add something to your depressing life. Give me a chance to try.”

“Word of advice,” you scoot away from him to the point the edge of the bench is digging into your ass and it honestly hurts, “you’re not gonna get anywhere with that attitude. How you phrased it disgusted me again.”

Kaiser finds your favored terms interesting. Everything is sickening and disgusting and vile and scummy from your perspective. Deep down for reasons he doesn’t want to ponder, he can relate.

“Great. You’ll come around soon,” he promises, with the confidence of someone who thinks this is a game he has a high chance of winning.

___

Kaiser makes it a point to inflict his presence onto you as much as he can afford to with your schedules, even though there’s no need for it. Not that you refuse him either. He’s kind of interesting to keep around, in his own Kaiser-ish way.

Earlier today he invited himself over to your house. He’d decided you need to come up with a story about your ‘relationship,’ but didn’t wanna discuss it through text messages. Apparently he has an interview coming up and wants to be prepared in case they ask him about you.

“How did we meet?” you ask, sitting on the other side of the couch and leaning against the armrest, away from him.

The answer is immediate: “I saved you from a burning church.”

You question what other fantasies this man could probably have because that’s the most absurd thing you’ve ever heard. Your voice somehow remains flat despite the bewilderment when you ask, “Why?”

“Because it’s flashy and dramatic.”

“But if anyone searches it up, they’ll see there haven’t been any… burned churches?”

“You’re such a killjoy.” Kaiser sighs. “It makes it sound mystical.”

“No it doesn’t,” you say, rather flippant about the entire thing. “It makes you sound like a pathological liar.”

“I like your sense of humor.”

“Thanks, but I’m not kidding about this.”

“Then what do you think it should be?” Kaiser asks. Obviously the purpose of this inquiry is to criticize your choice of scenario — even you can anticipate such a predictable move.

You roll your eyes and then look away from him in contemplation. You hadn’t really thought about it, since you don’t do interviews, and therefore you don’t need to concern yourself with hypotheticals on the matter. “Some kind of party, maybe. Post-match celebration?”

“Makes sense,” says Kaiser. “Doesn’t compel me, though. Boring.”

With a hum, you try to imagine what would both appeal to Kaiser and sound realistic. Though he doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’s swayed by practicality. “I went with someone else, but you swept me off my feet so hard, you stole me away from them.”

“I guess it sounds plausible enough while still having an element of fantasy.”

“Is the idea of me liking you the ‘element of fantasy’?”

“Yeah… That’s why I want it.”

You didn’t expect such a response. It has you looking at him weird. You do so often anyway, but now you do it for longer as if trying to glean something. In response Kaiser tells you to take a picture since it’ll last longer. The reply seems extraneous and distracting, and that only makes you feel more suspicious of him, which is weird since you’re not sure what you’re even inferring.

___

Officially it’s your fifth date with Kaiser, unofficially it’s the tenth. This time you’re holding up a frog in your open hands.

He doesn’t know what the point of all the nature-themed outings is — maybe to make him seem down to Earth in the public eye since he’s become notorious for how insufferable he is? Either way he doesn’t care, and he’s not the type to wander at landscapes, but your affinity for ugly animals is kind of cute.

The frog isn’t some special one either. No crazy colors or anything, just a regular green tree frog (according to your expertise). You let it jump onto your palms, since apparently touching their skin is bad for them or something. Kaiser scrutinizes it in distaste, staring down into its big eyes while it croaks. “So you can handle a disgusting amphibian, but you can’t hold hands with me.”

“I see you’re still thinking about that.”

“Well, it was insulting. And besides, it’s never happened to me before.”

“You’re not so bad. I don’t think I’d vomit if we brushed against each other anymore.”

Kaiser seems curious but nonetheless pleased with this development. “Why the change of heart?”

“Because you listen to what I say,” you tell him.

He somehow resists the urge to piss himself laughing at the sound of that. “Your standards are so low. It’s so sad that it’s funny,” he says. Maybe he would’ve dedicated some more time to teasing you over it, but he comes to a realization which immediately lifts his mood. This must mean he’s in your good graces somewhat, and not many people seem to fit there, so that makes Kaiser special to a degree. Right?

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.”

“Who would’ve thought someone who looks the way you do would come out like this?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I think you were one of those kids who, like, shoved sticks and leaves in mud and called it a potion.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean now?”

Kaiser lets out an annoyed sound, tired of elaborating. “It means I think you’re strange.”

“Hmm, I bet you do,” you say. “There’s a quote I like: ‘It is no measure of health to be well-adjusted to a profoundly sick society.’”

“Yeah, and I bet that’s the kind of message you love. What’s it from?”

“Interesting story,” you say. “This is Jiddu Krishnamurti’s most famous quote, but it doesn’t appear in any of his books. Allegedly he said it to some other guy.”

Kaiser blinks and nods, maybe trying to keep a pretense of having the slightest concept of what you’re on about. “Whatever, got it. I can’t remember the last time I read a book. Maybe I’ll check him out.”

“You don’t seem like you’d be interested in that type of thing,” you say, staring at him as if you’re trying to figure him out.

“Actually, I am. Can you stop taking every chance to insult me?”

“I’m not. At least not on purpose… So, what are your hobbies, anyway? You never told me.”

“I practice. What do you take me for?”

You furrow your eyebrows at him. “That’s it?”

Kaiser opens his mouth to justify himself even though there’s no need to be defensive — maybe it’s that he feels like he’s lacking in some department after you bring your attention to it with your little response and generally Kaiser hates to be insufficient. But before he can argue and try and talk himself out of whatever perception you have of him now, an interruption happens.

The frog, which had been lazy and content with merely existing in your grasp, springs without any warning. It leaps out of your fingers and lands on top of Kaiser’s head.

Today you learn Michael Kaiser screams at an ear-shattering frequency when he’s startled. Soap opera level of shock and overreaction.

___

It is when you’re eating at a trashy place for lunch that Kaiser’s looking at his phone, which you find rude since you’re supposed to be spending time together and whatnot. He eats like a pig, too, not graceful at all — you wonder what his fans would think if they saw him with crumbs over his mouth and sauce on his chin. Good material for a public embarrassment campaign, you think.

But it’s in that moment that he finally wipes himself with a tissue and reaches out to all but shove his phone in your face. “Look, we’re so hot!”

You grace the picture with a dismissive glance before looking back down at your meal, disinterested. You already know enough about Kaiser to assume he’d get a kick out of power couple fantasies. And other power fantasies. Really, you find it pathetic.

It was something out of the photoshoot he was showing you, his favorite you presume. Even someone like Kaiser, who has conventional features, isn’t perfect when it comes to these unreasonable standards. He’d been way too stiff next to you while he posed and though his face is symmetrical, his expressions tend to stray to one side, and obviously it’d been corrected.

There’s a mismatch between you on the covers and your image in the mirror. Maybe your brain is exaggerating the disconnect, but every time you see them, it’s like staring into an airbrushed, distorted amalgamation. In other words, you prefer avoiding both the edited products and your reflection whenever you can.

“We don’t look like that,” you say, offhand about his enthusiasm as you are with most things.

Kaiser scoffs and then very blatantly tries to compare between whatever version of you he has on his phone and the you in front of him. There’s not a single good thing you can say about his decision — it’s making your skin crawl just knowing it’s what he’s doing.

“Close enough,” he deems after careful examination.

“I don’t think it’s me.”

“It’s quite literally you.”

“I don’t think anything is me. Like I’m just what I see. My perspective, my point of view. You get what I’m saying?”

“No?” Kaiser says, laughing at you and your apparently strange affliction.

“Well if not that, you have to admit things captured on camera aren’t real.”

“What are you talking about,” Kaiser asks in a flat tone, which leaves it as something less than a question. A few more snickers escape him and he’s grinning at you like a bastard — if at first he regarded you as a slightly more fascinating bug than the rest, by now you must be his favorite, the rarest… A tree lobster. “You make no sense.”

“It totally makes sense. Imagine we’re having sex-”

“What kind of stupid come-on is that?”

“It’s not a come-on, I’m explaining. So, imagine we’re having sex-”

“In what position?”

“Whatever you want as long as it works for the scenario. Anyway, imagine we’re having sex-”

Kaiser laughs harder and then attempts some seductive sort of expression which doesn’t land with you. “I’m imagining it,” he informs.

“Shut up and let me get to the point. Imagine we’re having sex and I’m recording it-”

“Wow, I didn’t take you for such a pervert? Not that I hate it.”

“-so I’m looking at you through the camera lens. The phone’s between us. I’m not, like, in the moment with you. My mind’s absent, it’s all digital. So if you think about it we’re not even really having sex.”

“... You’re losing me even more,” Kaiser says after some contemplation, finding the fantasy unpleasant all of a sudden with this new spin to it. A moment passes during which he takes another big, possibly exaggerated bite, but he at least has enough decency to chew and swallow before adding, “I think you just have a problem.”

You roll your eyes, wondering if he even entertained the thought, but shrug since it doesn’t matter in the end. “Why are we always talking about how I’m weird? If anything, you're eccentric, not me.”

Kaiser wrinkles his nose in offense at the notion and makes an incomprehensible hand gesture in the air. “No. I’ve turned out totally normal. Don’t put me at your level.”

A lot of curiosities spin around your head concerning Kaiser’s behavior whenever you meet and you’re yet to find an answer. What does he want? Clearly he’s comfortable with and used to wanting, but what is it? Attention? Money? Fame? Status? All, none? Will it ever be enough? Is it even the kind of hunger which can be satiated?

Who is he when he’s not playing this ridiculous character?

“I can’t get a read on you,” you tell him.

“Well, you’re socially inept. I doubt you can get a read on anyone.”

“So are you.”

Kaiser feigns hurt over this. He does that a lot. Maybe he finds it hilarious, maybe the performance is all for shits and giggles — who knows.

“I want to dissect your head,” you say after a while of silence.

“Really? That’s what you wanna do with me?”

“Mhm. With a scalpel. I’d make an incision around your temple maybe.”

“My beautiful and demented angel, is that your way of saying you wanna get closer to me?” The sentence comes out mocking with a paper thin smile, but there’s a sense of admiration in it. What for? You raise an eyebrow in visible confusion at the… nickname, but Kaiser doesn’t elaborate. To take away from the tension(?), he announces, “You’ve got something stuck between your teeth,” pointing at your mouth all amused.

___

Kaiser had an ulterior motive in accepting that deal. Though wording it this way makes it sound like some calculated, opportunistic, sinister scheme, when in reality it’s nothing beyond immature and a little humiliating.

Of course, in true Kaiser fashion, when looking to meet someone, he goes straight for the most convoluted option. So when the stupid idea came up, he agreed, even if he put on a bit of a show at first and acted irritating. Confessing to wanting friends is so embarrassing. He’d rather shoot himself at point blank or perhaps commit an act of auto-defenestration than admit the real reason for participating, much less in front of you.

Despite the jabs, you’re also not bad at all. Calm and uninvolved in anything that upsets him and without any expectations towards him.

At first he found your indifference derogatory, but as the months have passed by, there’s a sort of comfort in knowing that he could’ve been some random guy off the street and you would’ve probably treated him the same. In front of you he is neither on a pedestal nor someone to be knocked down on his knees. More Michael than he is Kaiser.

Things have been teetering on a dangerous edge lately. His mind is wandering off towards you again, more and more often each day. Like maybe he’s excited for the next time he sees you or something else repulsive in a similar vein, a giddy feeling bubbling in his stomach. Is this what it would’ve been like to be a little boy with a crush?

Generally he prefers not to socialize with background characters. So he doesn’t know why it’s while he’s having some benign daydream about you that some newbie he hadn’t bothered remembering the name of decides to interrupt him. Besides, it’s inconvenient, he was supposed to be leaving and this guy is blocking the changing room door.

“I heard you’re banging a model,” he says, as if they’re good pals or some shit. Kaiser is also mostly immune to annoying locker room talk since all the other psychotic men he knows are too busy being as fanatical as him to waste time on something as useless as objectifying someone to pass the time, yet here this lowlife is.

Kaiser regards him with a judgmental side eye — for a second too long, almost television-style — and tries to move and sidestep him. “Why do you care? Pathetic cuck.”

“Woah, don’t be like that. I just thought it was funny. I’ve heard about that person before, would’ve thought it would be more of a hit it and quit it type thing. Yet here you are, still together.”

The emotion that zaps him is almost disorienting. Kaiser bruises easily, but it’s all about him. There’s never been much room for anyone else in his mentality of suffocating self-absorption, a depressing way to try and compensate for anyone who’s ever wronged him. Right now, though, he’s feeling anger on someone else’s behalf. A borderline exotic situation.

“So I was curious if that thing about loonies being the best at fucking was true? I’m assuming it is ‘cause I don’t know why else you’d stay with a schizoid.”

In the heat of the moment, when he’s pissed off, Kaiser is not the most poetic wordsmith. Thankfully politeness and civility are sensibilities which elude him. Without a second thought or any regret, he makes use of his water bottle still in his hand and dumps the entire contents of it over his head before elbowing him out of the way while he’s still confused.

___

You really don’t want to be having this conversation.

For fuck’s sake, you’re on break. And isn’t that supposed to mean relaxation? Yet the other model for the shoot today has been bugging you with unpleasant questions, putting you on the spot.

“Isn’t he a narcissist, though?” she asks, refusing to let go of the topic no matter how unresponsive you’ve been.

“I guess? Maybe. In a way…”

“You’re sooo… I don’t know. Like, you don’t even sound sure about what you’re telling me.” She narrows her eyes at you, leaning in a bit closer. “Aren’t you scared of him? Or is it ‘cause you’re so sheltered, you don’t know not to mess around with guys like Kaiser?”

Scared of him? It sounds ludicrous. At worst he’s whiny.

“He’s harmless,” you say. “Just a little rude and preoccupied with himself, that’s all. Actually, he’s an interesting and attentive person.”

She covers her mouth and lets out a sound of amusement, apparently now finding you more convincing and therefore dropping her worries. “He was saying you guys are suuuuuuuper in love with an interview.”

Not too engaged with the topic — since it’s about whatever lies Kaiser told the interviewer to entertain himself — you ask, “Is that what he was saying?”

“Yep. Didn’t you watch?”

“No.”

“Fine. Maybe he’s ‘interesting and attentive.’ I mean, I don’t believe it, but whatever. What about you, though? Do you like him, let alone love him? Can you even like anyone? I mean, shit, you know how you are. So, like, can you? Are you suuuuuuuper in love?”

You avert your eyes. “Yes,” you say. It’s true. You do like Kaiser well enough, probably more than you should. “And stop making assumptions about him and me.”

“What if I don’t stop? What are you gonna do?”

That’s… A very good question because there’s nothing you can do at the moment. Seems like a good opportunity to weaponize your reputation of being a deranged serial killer. “I’ll lick your eyebrows.”

You don’t know if your delivery is persuasive or not, but the idea you’d do such a thing must come off as believable enough because she makes a strange face before backing off.

___

You despise being in situations. And making decisions.

There’s a stupid PR meeting again. Your manager, who you think should move onto writing trashy novellas instead of administering poison to your career just because his imagination is overactive, proposed a new stunt. With the fake relationship running its course, you were discussing ways to publicize the ‘break up’ and he suggested a cheating scandal. Not to mention his great idea had you as the cheater — you swear he’s praying on your downfall at this point.

Maybe because you’ve been treated as some kind of fucked up creature incapable of thought and trustworthy decisions, something insentient, you would’ve went along with it like always. Even though you know you’d look bad, the point is to make noise, and it would be a scandalous story if not anything else. Another indignity doesn’t matter much on an endless list.

Then Kaiser in true Kaiser fashion declared that he wants to keep the relationship going. To you, such an act of flippant defiance is unthinkable.

But obviously this forces you into a position where you need to pick between your options. They’re all staring at you, waiting. Kaiser is smiling at you from across his seat like you’re in on a joke with him. Anxious, you say, “I’ll think about it,” and stand up to leave.

You’re sweating because somewhere within you wanna announce ‘Yeah, I wanna keep seeing Michael Kaiser,’ but it’s so preposterous.

Kaiser doesn’t chase after you (though it’d be his style to do such a thing solely for the drama), but he catches up to you by the time you make it outside of the building, approaching the parking lot.

“Hey. Hey! Hey, stop ignoring me. Heeeeeeey.”

God he is such an annoying pest sometimes. You turn around to face him, snapping, “What?! What was that about anyway?”

“No, what’s with you? What is there to think about? You don’t want to look like a clown in front of the world, do you?”

You’re looking at Kaiser again like you’re trying to figure out a mystery. He always wants things, but what does he want from you? There has to be a reason for this. Otherwise, he should’ve been fine with the separation instead of trying to prolong it.

“Listen,” says Kaiser, a little apprehensive at your silence and expressionless gaze, “I can tell you barely tolerate your shitty job and that you probably don’t like the moronic idea your anthropomorphized cyst of a manager came up with, so why aren’t you protesting it?”

Those are objective enough observations. However, “Anthropomorphized cyst…?”

“You’re changing the subject,” Kaiser huffs, irked. “And by the way the fake meek act isn’t cute at all. They’re making money off of you. Tell them to fuck off and die and stop acting like a hostage.”

“This is very inspirational and all, Kaiser, but how about you tell me why you wanna keep the fake relationship going?”

“Doesn’t matter. If you don’t want that either, you can say we’ll settle for ending it instead of-”

You cross your arms. “Again, your attempts at a pep talk are adorable and appreciated, but you’re changing the subject now.”

“They’re not adorable. I’m right. Say I’m right.”

“Fine, fine, you’re right,” you relent with a roll of your eyes.

Kaiser smiles snidely and clasps his hands behind his back. “Thanks,” he says in a sarcastic tone. Then you expect him to entertain your question, but he doesn’t, leaving you in an uncomfortable staredown against him and his stupid ‘beautiful glowing blue orbs’ ass eyes.

“Answer me,” you demand.

“Your unpleasant personality and reclusive ways have bewitched me.”

…

“… What?”

“I won’t repeat myself,” Kaiser says with too much attitude considering the situation. Like, he just spoke out one of the most absurd sentences you’ve ever heard.

“Do you have a brain tumor?”

The outrageous suggestion makes him scoff. “Really? You think I need a brain tumor to like you?”

“Maybe,” you say. “Should’ve let me operate on you when I offered.”

“You’re mentally disturbed,” he replies like the fact turns him on or something.

“So were you asking me out or what?”

“Yes? No? Yes. Yeah, fine, I am.”

“Do you search up ‘personality’ on porn sites?”

“Come on, be serious. I mean what I’m saying and I want to give things between us a try. Do you?”

You cringe as if admitting your feelings or overall being in touch with them in the first place is a physically painful sensation, but in your defense you think you might throw up. “Yeah… Yeah, okay, I’ll tell him tomorrow. My manager, I mean.”

Kaiser swings an arm around your shoulders, visibly pleased with the way this is all going. He sings, “That’s the spirit.”

What had he wanted from you? Affection and care, apparently. You think back on when you’d called him ‘disgusting’ and a foreign guilt overcomes you since you don’t usually lament the remarks you make during your misanthropic hissy fits.

Is it fine for someone such as yourself to also indulge in wanting? Hesitant, with shaky arms, you embrace him around the middle, the gentlest of hugs. Kaiser freezes for a moment as if he’s unsure what to do when he’s not the one initiating things, but eventually returns the gesture. Melts into it, even. Two existences brushing against one another, at first glance contrary yet perhaps similar in many ways.

When you finally pull away from each other little by little, Kaiser says, “Let’s elope now.”

You sigh. “You sure have a way of making everything sound way more exciting than it is.”

(He drives you back to your place, but still sucks at driving. Chivalrously, he avoids crashing the car, though.)

___

Yall I was drinking light yellow tap water for a few daysdo you think somethings gonna happen to me ?

Btw I hate this but it's finally finished after like around a month so whatever lol I' M FREE

#michael kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #kaiser x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #michael kaiser x you

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gallavichsreddie1128 · 3 months

Text

Stand Up (Homelander)

Description: Y/N is the only one to stand up to Homelander

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 1,174k

Y/N watched as John gave his input on every little thing someone else said in the seven during the meeting. Deep was speaking and had a really stupid movie idea that would never work and like always John had something to say about it. Y/N groaned as the man went on and on about how the Deep’s idea was stupid and said shit that the rest of them already knew. Homelander looked over at Y/N and shut his mouth, “is there a problem?” He asked.

She sat up and chuckled, “John you’ve been going on and on about how stupid that idea was like the rest of us don’t already know. Just shut up!” He raised his eyebrows at the girl shocked by her words. That was the first time Y/N had ever said that to him or anything like that. “It’s Homelander and I’m the boss you don’t get to talk to me like that.” He said. She stood up, “actually Stan is the boss and you’re his puppet. You’re the face of the seven that’s it.” Jaws were dropped after she said and Homelander had the look of murder in his eyes. Y/N waited for a comeback but all that came was, “Ok then Y/N. What’s your idea?”

Homelander glared at Y/N as she waved to the crowd. It was Homelander’s birthday and Starlight and her were hosting it. Y/N didn’t want to do it but it was Stan’s demand. The whole thing was going okay until Homelander decided to pull a narcissistic stunt and say that he was better than everyone else and what not. Y/N laughed after his little speech while the crowd was silent.

He looked over at her and she stopped, “So the narcissistic attention seeking whore wants to say he makes no mistakes and he’s better than everyone else? Diabolical.” She said to him not caring about the crowd of people. “Excuse me?” “I didn’t stutter. You can put on this act like you don’t care about anything and you’re better bullshit but the sad truth is you need validation and love or else you crumble.” That was the first time anyone’s ever embarrassed him in public. Stan watched with a smirk as the two argued in front of the crowd.

Y/N entered the seven’s headquarters first and sighed. The week had been crazy especially after Homie’s birthday. The internet was tore between the two. Y/N got maybe 5 minutes alone before someone else entered the room. It was Homelander. He closed the door, “ah good you’re here. I need to talk to you.” He said. She looked up at him without a word. “You need to be careful how you speak to me.” He said. She scoffed, “is that a threat?” She asked. He shrugged. “You’re not the boss of me okay? You need to be put in your place.” She stood up as she talked. “No. You’re done running your little mouth.” He said and she laughed. “Or what? You’ll kill me? Do it.” She said and got in his face. “Laser me Milk Boy.” She challenged. He stared at her with hate and something else she couldn’t place.

“What got nothing to say?” Before she could say another word his lips were on hers. She didn’t kiss back but tried to shove him away. “You drive me fucking crazy.” He growled and she let out a breath she was holding. “Oh so now you have nothing to say?” He asked. It was her turn to kiss him and he pulled her body closer to him. Her hands laced themselves through his hair as she deepened the kiss. His hands gripped her ass, making her gasp. He took this as an opportunity to slide his tongue in her mouth. She felt sick to her stomach at what she was doing but it felt so good. He was a pretty good kisser that she almost forgot she needed air. She pulled away breathing hard, “Make this worth my while and fuck me.” She said. He smirked and picked her up.

She wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her to the table and laid her on it. Her suit was revealing enough that his lips could almost touch her nipples. She let out a moan as he sucked her boobs and left hickies all over them. “Just so everyone knows you’re mine.” He mumbles against them. He moves down to her covered pussy. “I can practically smell your arousal.” He said and he ripped open her suit. She looked up at him in shock but he shrugged. “It was in the way.” Vought was gonna kill her. She wasn’t wearing panties so he leaned down and took a big sniff of her wet pussy. He basically moaned at the smell and chuckled. “Fuck.” He said and licked her pussy.

She gasped out feeling his tongue. He chuckled and decided to suck on her clit. Her body shook as the man put his awful mouth to good use. Her head was thrown back on the table as soft moans fell from her lips. His gloved hands were placed on her thighs as he ate her like she was his last meal. When she was about to cum he pulled away and she looked up at him with a glare. It softened when she saw her pussy juice on his face. He wore it proudly too, not daring to wipe it off. He pulled down his suit pants and boxers to reveal with long and hard cock. Y/N’s eyes widen at the sight.

The man was already cocky but this made it worse. She sat up and was face to face with him. He leaned in and kissed her but this time it wasn’t heavy. She took his dick in her hand as they kissed causing him to moan into the kiss. Her hand positioned him at her entrance and she pulled his hips so he entered her. They both gasped as he stretched her out. Her walls were tight but it felt so good. They kissed for a few more seconds until he pulled away and began thrusting. She whined and her head fell back giving him access to her neck. He leaned down and kissed her throat.

He felt her swallow and decided to suck. She gripped the table that began to make noise as his thrust got faster. Her other hand was laced through his hair. “John.” She moaned and his eyes nearly rolled back. “I fucking love it when you call me that.” He groans out. The sound of his hips slapping into hers was heard throughout the room along with their moans. He pulled away from her throat and pushed her back on the table. She gasped and look up to see him staring at her with dark eyes. “I plan to fuck you on every seat every thing in this room.” He told her and groaned loudly as he came inside of her with no protection or care in the world.

#the boys amazon #the boys #the boys imagine #the boys tv #the boys season 4 #homelander #homelander x reader #homelander imagine #homelander smut #homelander x you #antony starr

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majycka · 1 month

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Megumi stans....we won, I guess? maybe just for now..

JJK 266 THOUGHTS AND SPOILERS AHEAD!

Aight megumi enjoyers, at least one of us has been in the trenches when Megumi was getting SHOVELED PILES OF SHIT ON for losing his will to live when he's a traumatized 15 years old boy having a valid reaction to a death of a loved one (aka who may I repeat, HEAVILY REITERATED in the manga is someone whose his entire desire to live hinges on). As of from the currents chap, I'm considering Yuuji's acknowledgement/understanding to Megumi's actions a W for us or idk maybe that's just me because he gives Megumi the empathy and understanding he needs in his crazy ass suicidal life, and it raises the question of whether this is gonna fully push Megumi for his comeback moment?

More yapping under the cut

In order to explain why the magnitude of this chapter is such an important development for Megumi, his trauma needs to be discuss first and, there's four people we need to go through to reflect his stages of life. Toji, Tsumiki, Gojo, aaaannd Yuuji! :D

TOJI, the dad who left for milk.

Although we barely see any interaction with these two (only one fight scene from them), Toji no doubt kickstarted the trauma of Megumi the moment he decided to left for milk and never return again. He's traumatized by the Zenin's which explains why he acted out in that way and abandoned his child. All he's life he's treated as the outsider for being the odd one out. He lashed out from it as he got stronger, calmed down when meet Meg's mom who then died, and went back to lashing out again, forgetting that he has a tiny son waiting for him at home. Big L for Toji.

I know that Gege reiterated in his interview that he wants to craft a story where there's no right and wrong people, but I'm gonna proceed to be harsher towards Toji here because he's the ADULT situation. Yes, a traumatized adult who's fucked up and not perfect, but I still hold him accountable in perpetuating Megumi's trauma because Toji proceeded to repeat the cycle of trauma that moment he decided to leave, thinking that turning over Megumi to the Zenin is the best option cuz he got The Ten Shadows Technique. From Toji's perspective, it seemed the better option because he was raised knowing his no cursed energy made him an outcast in his family. It's drilled to him that cursed technique was everything for Zenins, so of course, he thought that his son with a valued technique will make the Zenins, olympic gold medal holder of abuse, treat him better. But, heck no! Just look what happened to that Naoya, who despite being raised differently as Toji or Maki and Mai, ended up as a piece of shit. In the end though, I gotta give him the bareeeessst minimum because he kinda pushed Gojo to interfere with Megumi being sold off to the Zenins(which has another set of problems discussed for the later part of discussion).

I try to stay true in including Gege's intention in writing here, and also other nuanced perspective cuz that's the type of series JJK is that yes, Toji DID care for his son in the barest minimum and in his most emotionally stunted way.

However, the damage is done, and Megumi is left with no prime adult caretaker to protect/guide him with only an older sis to have any resemblance of it .

2. TSUMIKI, the manic pixie dream girl sister.

To define the term (as I've stolen from Google) , manic pixie dream girl (MPDG) means "a type of female character depicted as vivacious and appealingly quirky, whose main purpose within the narrative is to inspire a greater appreciation for life in a male protagonist." They are often associated as love interest in movies, BUT I AM NO WAY SHAPE IN FORM ENDORSING MEGUMI SEES HER THAT WAY. Instead, I am using MPDG as a loose term to describe Tsumiki because like most MPDG, we barely know ANYTHING about her actually and we only saw her through the eyes of Megumi which is being pretty and dead.

Not essentially dead and not essentially just pretty because Megumi described her to be the model of a kind person and someone that Megumi wishes to protect, aka his greater purpose of life, which is yah, great, but we are stuck with this perception of Tsumiki. We don't know her, and I think the closest thing we got an unbiased perception of her is when she chucked a cartoon of milk to Megumi (she will call out his BS). This connects back with Megumi's trauma because who else are you gonna hinge your will to live on when the prime adults in your life failed you? He sees her in a brighter light in order to survive. A way of coping mechanism even.

AND YET, despite all his talk appreciating her kind traits and killing people in the culling game to get back to her, you would be surprised that instead of apologizing to her that he was all emo about, he was a dick to her when they reunited. 💀💀

And in fact, the narrative punishes him for this flaw.

To the point that when Sukuna took over his body, he "killed: Tsumiki in his hands which didn't just left Megumi the guilt and shame of being a dick to his sister before she dies but also the impression that Megumi was the one who "killed her." This makes Megumi an active participant to his own tragedy, and it serves a big slap on his face that he's also at fault here.

3. GOJO, the traumatized bro who tried his best.

This is definitely the raging hot debate of the fandom which is their dynamic, and my take breaks this perception of the uwufied Gojo a lot of the fandom seems to like. Yes, I do see Gojo as another perpetrator to Megumi’s trauma, another adult that failed him but not in such of a black and white way thinking of Gojo’s the wholly bad guy here. Believe it or not, he’s still a part of the chain of generational trauma, being a "chain" as in he's a victim AND perpetrator of the system. I called him the traumatized bro who tried his best here because as much as Gojo knows how cruel the jujutsu system is for the kids, he still unintentionally passes over the core mindset of such cruel system to Megumi since Gojo still did grew up in this system normalized in his eyes.

"Jujutsu Sorcerer is an individual sport."

I say "unintentionally passes" because no, Gojo doesn't have the same intention as Zenins/majority of the system who drills "strength is everything" in the most fucked up way possible. Yes, he enjoys Megumi’s company and treats him nicely. Yes, he sticks his neck out for him. Yes, he wants them to be strong so they can change the system. But this isn't about Gojo. It's about Megumi who still undeniably suffered from the accumulation of the few adults in his life failing him which includes Gojo. Gojo offers protection to Megumi. KEYWORD: Offers. It’s in exchange for Megumi working under Gojo as a jujutsu sorcerer. Now, for smol Megumi here, who truly going through the horror show of abandonment from his dad, agrees to it because apparently, according to Gojo, it’s the only way to protect his sister.

"I'll take care of things! But you're gonna have to work extra hard. I'm countin' on ya."

Annnd thus the cycle repeats! Although it wasn’t as bad as Zenin’s abusive environment Toji was raised, Megumi is still pushed in the same cutthroat environment of the jjk world that Gojo believed he can survive just because Megs has a valued powerful technique if only he himself fullfills his potential, like Gojo’s Six Eyes. BUT Gojo, who delights in his power, forgets a crucial part that…..Megumi isn’t like him!

Check out what Megumi has to say. (aka bud doesn't want any of that sorcerers shit and just wants a domestic life)

So the thing is, was Megumi ever asked his input in choosing to be a jujutsu sorcerer? Well, yah….and all it circles back to just protecting his sister and people like her. There’s a set of problems that comes with this mindset though that Gojo was valid to point out and that is Megumi doesn’t think about himself enough. “It’s ok to be selfish!” Gojo said in the context of being a stronger sorcerer.

But at the same time, he also gave Megumi the idea to that if he doesn’t work as sorcerer, then he won’t be able to protect his sister when he was a mere 6-7y/o boy.

You know that circulating meme of Megumi pulling Mahogora for minor inconvenience? Well, guess what that tells his suicidal tendencies in protecting anyone but himself. Kid got no sense of self-preservation because his self esteemed has completely tanked itself due to his abandonment issues, and now that he’s expressing how it emotionally and physically paralyzes him, he has every valid reason to do so.

Why, yes, Gojo was 19/20 at the time he first met Megs, still a kid, doesn't know shit, and has unaddressed issues being treated as The Strongest Weapon(here’s a dedicated gojo-centric meta I wrote previously about Gojo and his issues cuz he's one complicated fool). I describe this whole situation as an unaware traumatized kid taking in another traumatized kid which is not a fun mix to have, and I understand that Gojo ain’t exactly prepared for that kind of job.

HOWEVER, I’m way harsher to point out Gojo’s failure as an adult in Megumi in the later part of the series because at this point, Gojo's a grown adult, he waxes poetry in being responsible for the next gen , and we get to see his priorities throughout the series especially with the Sukuna’s fight, like seriously he had one legitimate fun fighting someone on par with him.

Gojo DELIGHTS in power no doubt, he chooses kids with most potential, he gets excited finding those kids, and this is the type of the closest dependable adult Megumi has in his life.

Yes, financially supported but Gojo isn't around much when he's working and on demand sorcerer almost 24/7. That's why growing up sure do sucked ass for Megumi especially when no one’s really there to guide and to keep an eye on your development AS A PERSON AND NOT JUST A SORCERER which the latter part is what unfortunately Gojo’s more eager to do.

4. YUUJI, the guy who just wants Megumi to know he matters to him as a person.

Yuuji and Megumi were definitely the highlight of this chapter because in the bleak world of JJK where everyone seemed to be succumbing to the repeated fuck ups of the previous gen (like that Yuta-Gojo situation), this chapter actually offers that THERE IS HOPE that the new gen can do better like what Yuuji just did that the adults in Megumi's life are too emotionally stunted to do. Yuuji take the time to listen to Megumi's emotional thoughts, what he feels as a person, and not just listen, but to understand and empathize. It even took lots of attempts for Yuuji to make Megumi open up.

He responds to Megumi's vulnerability with care and love, and Yuuji understands the pain Megumi is going through from losing his sister. With someone in pain like that, Yuuji knows he can't just go around saying "just live" to someone who's practically suicidal.

The treat of this all is when this scene comes next. Yuuji also shows his vulnerability and expresses that Megumi matters to him!

"It's lonely without you..Fushiguro."

This scene clearly parallels Gojo and Megumi's first meeting, so I'm gonna try to throw my two cents here and explain why Gege choose this direction. Remember what I said about Yuuji giving us the hope of the new gen escaping from the shackles of generational trauma? Well, I think this parallel is a way in saying that what Megumi needed when he was so young was someone to see him and his pain who's just a kid abandoned and forced to fend for themselves because the prime adults decided to to dip out. This is Megumi we are talking about here who's unaddressed issues stays hidden beneath all the pressure of him being The Ten Shadows Technique. He's valued for his technique. That's why Gojo showed up to meet him in the first place. That's also what the jujutsu system looked after for their child soldiers. Yuuji tries to break this chain of trauma their mentor unknowingly repeats. He'll show up for Megumi again and again because he's his dear friend even if Megumi's being difficult to be pulled out of Sukuna. And the beautiful thing is Yuuji didn't had some grand inspiring speech or grand offer to convince Megumi, he wasn't even sure Megumi will be up for it. Yuuji simply want to say that he matters to him. That understands him. That he's important to him so much he'll be sad when he dies, and it mattered.

"This is...Fushiguro Megumi's...!!"

And now that Megumi is showing signs in taking his body back, it's now his turn to save himself. Yuuji did his part, and for someone whose future has been controlled by everyone but himself, this time Megumi gets to decide what comes next.

#jjk 266 #jjk manga #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #yuuji itadori #itadori yuuji #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro #tsumiki fushiguro #fushiguro tsumiki #jjk meta #jjk spoilers #yall this is the fastest i pulled words out of my ass and provided evidence for it #my uni paper would never see such treatment kdngjksd #it's very messy but gah i gotta type this shit out or it will be forever be stuck in my head and messes with my daily routine lol #meta attempt

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cambion-companion · 2 years

Text

Aemond Fanfiction Masterlist #1

A compilation of my Aemond Targaryen fics I have written thus far.

Link to Masterlist #2

My Favorites ✨️

Slung over the shoulder | Aemond x wife!reader

Pinned | Aemond x reader | enemies to lovers

A Mommy's Boy | Aemond x reader

Not when I've spent my entire life loving you | Aemond x reader

Captured | Aemond x fem!reader SMUT

Milk | Aemond x fem!reader SMUT

I can't help but love you, even when I try not to | Aemond x reader

Jealousy | Aemond x Lannister!Reader

Dad Aemond 🍼

A soft morning | dad!Aemond x fem!reader

Finding out you're pregnant | Aemond x fem!reader

Tired parent kiss | Aemond x reader drabble

Don't lay a hand on her | Aemond x pregnant!reader

Riding Vhagar | Aemond x pregnant!reader

A difficult choice | Aemond x pregnant!reader

Drunk Drabbles 🍷

Comedy of Errors Part 1 | Aemond x Reader

Cheating during chess | Aemond x wife!reader

Tipsy Aemond drabble | Aemond x wife!reader

That's my lap | Aemond x reader

Would you love me if I was a worm | Aemond x reader

Spicey Fics 🌶

Lost in Flea Bottom | Aemond x fem!reader

I desire you | Aemond x fem!Lannister!reader

Beneath the Table | Aemond x fem!reader

Never do that again | Angry!Aemond x fem!reader

A sleepy comfort | Aemond x fem!reader

Warm within you | Aemond x fem!reader

Period sex | Aemond x fem!reader

Riding the Dragon atop the Dragon | Aemond x fem!reader

I hate the word squirt | Aemond x fem!reader

Pregnant and needing | Aemond x fem!preg!reader |breastfeeding kink

Dark Waltz | Aemond x f!reader | comfort

Weavings in Moonlight | Aemond x f!reader

Consequences for your actions | Aemond x f!reader

A Warm Bathtub Ride | Aemond x f!reader

Sweet as Honey | Aemond x f!reader

Dragon Rider | Aemond x f!reader

Just A Taste | Aemond x f!reader

A Heated Awakening | Aemond x f!reader

NSFW Alphabet | Aemond x f!reader

Baby Hungry | Aemond x f!reader

Distraction from Studying | Aemond x fem!reader

Drabbles 💭

Returning after battle | Aemond x wife!reader

Giggly kiss | Aemond x reader

I can't do this without you | Aemond x reader

Sticking up for Helaena | Aemond x reader

Last Kiss | Aemond x reader | angst

Comfort for period pain | Aemond x fem!reader

Jealousy backfires | Aemond x reader

Only One Bed | Aemond x reader drabble

Validation | Aemond x insecure!reader drabble

To be loved | Aemond x reader drabble

Kiss of life | Aemond x reader drabble

Against the wall | Aemond x reader drabble

Desperate kiss | Aemond x reader drabble

Don't kiss your opponent | Aemond x reader drabble

Morning Kisses | Aemond x reader drabble

I Almost Lost You | Aemond x reader drabble

A Lover's Kiss | Aemond x reader drabble

To be in your Arms | Aemond x reader drabble

I Missed You Kiss | Aemond x reader drabble

Whispers of Are You Sure | Aemond x reader drabble

A Jealous Kiss | Aemond x reader

Relax, my love | Aemond x reader massage drabble

Oneshots ✍️

I would marry you in a heartbeat | Aemond x reader

Spray of blood | Angry!Aemond x wife!reader

Brotherly shenanigans | Aemond x wife!reader and then there's Daeron

Aegon slaps reader's ass | protective!Aemond x wife!reader

10 things I hate about you | Aemond x fem!reader

Don't have to hide from me | Aemond x sorceress!reader

Do Not Touch | Jealous Aemond x f!reader

Cassandra Baratheon x Aemond Oneshot

Friends with Benefits | Aemond x Reader

Two nerds in a room..they might kiss | Aemond x Reader

I Miss Screaming and Fighting and Kissing in the Rain | Aemond x Reader

Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken | Aemond x Martell!Reader

He took me to a brothel when I was thirteen | Aemond x reader

The first "I love you" | Aemond x reader

A Secret Love | Aemond x servant!reader

The World Will Know | Aemond x insecure!reader

Confronting Him about Luke | Aemond x Strong!Reader

Seeing the Sapphire | Aemond x reader

Accidental Injury | Aemond x wife!reader

Little Women AU Part 2 | Aemond x reader

Continuing Fanfics 📖

Comedy of Errors Part 2 | Aemond x Reader

And Winter Came Part 1 | Aemond x Stark!Reader

And Winter Came Part 2 | Aemond x Stark!Reader

And Winter Came Part 3 | Aemond x Stark!Reader

Seeing his darker side Part 1 | Aemond x reader

Aemond x genius!reader Part 1

Collaborations! 👥️️

Roses in his Hands, Fire in her Veins

More to come! Inbox is closed for oneshot requests, though please feel free to send in quotations, drabbles, scenarios, questions, etc. :)

Thanks for the support friends!

#aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond one eye #house of the dragon #aemond masterlist

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martianlune · 2 years

Text

🪐 the saturn signs and their bullshit detectors 🪐

aries saturn

they know when someone is weak-willed and doesn’t have the drive or the NERVE to follow through. if there’s a lack of conviction, their alarm bells go off.

taurus saturn

their bullshit detector goes off when someone can’t back up what they’re selling. they can spot instability and bad investments. they know when people/things are temporary or flaky.

gemini saturn

the fact-checking placement. they know when someone is speaking out of reactivity instead of speaking for the benefit of sharing information. ability to sense when someone is talking for their ego and not for truth.

cancer saturn

they sense when people are being emotionally inauthentic with themselves and others. they’re also good at recognizing when there’s a disconnect between others’ feelings and desires.

leo saturn

this placement knows when people are inauthentic/not being true to themselves. their bullshit detector goes off when people are afraid to take the spotlight or are using the spotlight inappropriately.

virgo saturn

they can spot when people are living selfishly. they’ll know if the way you’re choosing to live isn’t efficient or sustainable and will dragggg you for it. bullshit detector goes off for lack of respect for/not helping others.

libra saturn

they are lie detectors through and through. they know when someone’s side of the story doesn’t add up. they can tell when people aren’t justified in their actions and are validating themselves to compensate.

scorpio saturn

this placement detects impure motivations, secrecy, and deception. they can tell when someone is operating out of paranoia. able to hone in on fear and anxiety like a hawk.

sagittarius saturn

their alarm goes off when they hear a half-assed belief. sag saturn’s bullshit detector is for fallaciousness. they can’t stand a weak life philosophy.

capricorn saturn

they know when someone isn’t putting in the work. they HATE seeing people lie about their work ethic or how much effort they’ve actually been putting in. bullshit detector for sloth/laziness.

aquarius saturn

they have the OG bullshit detector. theirs goes off when people don’t believe what’s coming out of their own mouths. calling others out for not updating their beliefs/routines or having regurgitated sermons instead of their own opinions.

pisces saturn

their bullshit detector goes off when they see someone playing the victim. pisces saturn easily recognizes ploys for sympathy and when someone is milking it.

#saturn #astrology #astro insights #astro #astrology observations #saturn signs

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angellesword · 4 months

Text

BAGGAGE l JJK (02)

Summary: Drowning in debt and blood, Jeon Jungkook knows he's better off alone, lest he brings people down with him.

But one drunken night changes everything.

In a blink of an eye, Jungkook found himself drowning not only in debt and blood, but also in dirty diapers and judgmental stares from you, a.k.a his long-lost love and the guardian of the son he didn't even know existed.

Genre and warnings: best friends to lovers, co-parenting, idiots in love, slow burn—really slow burn, mutual pining, angst, fluff, implied smut, kissing, minor character death, slight getting back together, cursing, blood, stabbing, loan sharks, OC cusses excessively so watch out

Pairing: dad! Jungkook x adoptive mom!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

←Previous Chapter (01) | Next Chapter (03) →

******

Eight Years Ago; 2015

Jungkook couldn’t lie. Life at Port Mafia was exhausting him down to the bones, but he felt an onslaught of energy rush through him when he saw you leaning on your car while waiting for him.

“Oho~ Perfect timing. My best friend is here to pick me up~.” Jungkook said in a sing-song voice as he happily skipped down your car. Unfortunately, you didn’t mirror Jungkook’s glowing mood.

“Yeah, I’m here to save your shitty ass from perishing. Here—” You pushed a paper bag into Jungkook’s chest before opening the passenger’s door and shoving him inside.

Normally, Jungkook whined about how roughly you treated him, but he couldn’t ignore the savory aroma wafting from the paper bag anymore. Jungkook had no time for drama when his stomach was growling this loud.

“Crazy bastard. When was the last time you ate!?” You scowled as soon as he entered the car.

Jungkook ignored your question. His eyes glistened with crystals when he saw a container full of crab spring rolls. His favorite! He happily uttered your name and asked, “Are these for me? Can I eat them all?”

A scoff escaped your lips when Jungkook stuffed five spring rolls in his mouth in one go. His question did not need a response, but you answered anyway: “You’re the only one I know who eats spring rolls like there’s no tomorrow. Of course, you can eat them all. I made them for you.”

“Aw, aren’t you a sweetheart~?” Jungkook licked his fingers before extending his arm to demand, “Now give me a drink.”

Room-temperature bottled water touched Jungkook’s hand.

“Huh?” Jungkook didn’t accept the water and looked at you with confusion. “Why are you giving me this bland drink? I want banana milk!”

“Shut your trap!” You unscrewed the bottle cap and forced Jungkook to drink it. “You don’t eat in time and even refuse to drink water. You really wanna die, huh?”

Jungkook’s lips puckered. He breathed, “I agree on the last part, but you got something wrong. I do drink water! I just prefer it with flavor. Jimin-hyung and I had coffee earlier. Although, it’s too bitter for my liking..”

A pause.

Jungkook shut his mouth when he noticed your frown deepen. There was a limit to his jokes, and Jungkook knew this. You and Jungkook had been friends since you were five. You might curse and beat him, but you cared for Jungkook. You really lived up to being his best friend.

“You haven’t eaten all day, and your precious hyung made you drink coffee? Very good,” you said sarcastically.

Jungkook let out a breath, “Hey, it’s not like that, okay? We were busy at the office all day. You know we’re a start-up business.”

Start-up, my ass. The words died down in your throat. Some things didn’t need to be voiced out for them to be valid. One look at Jungkook, and your chest tightened. The bags under Jungkook’s eyes were deep and black. If you argued now, Jungkook would be more exhausted. You didn’t have the heart to watch your best friend suffer. You just wanted to bring him home.

“Right.” You gulped and leaned closer to Jungkook to help him buckle his seatbelt. The move invaded Jungkook’s personal space. He could feel your hot breath on his neck.

You owned a secondhand car that Jungkook helped you pick. The previous owner said it was fully depreciated, but you thought it worked perfectly fine—except maybe the seatbelt. Jungkook always lost his temper every time he fastened this ridiculous thing.

You had to do it for him.

Normally, it took two seconds or less to fasten one’s seatbelt, but for some reason, you took a long time helping Jungkook buckle up, almost as if you wanted to stay in this position for the rest of your life.

“Take care of yourself, alright?” Click. The seatbelt was locked in place. You straightened your back and drove the car.

Present; 2023

Nostalgia hit Jungkook in the face like torrential rain. As of the moment, you, although allowing Jungkook to sit in the passenger seat of your car, had no intention of getting close to him or whatever.

Jungkook heaved a deep sigh.

It was too cold inside your car. Everything had truly changed. Jungkook often complained about the broken air conditioning of your cheap vehicle back then. However, you were driving a top-of-the-line car now.

The atmosphere was awkward. If someone were to tell Jungkook that he’d one day sit inside your car in silence, he would surely call that person crazy.

There was never a dull moment when he was with you. Currently, the only sound that could be heard was the seatbelt warning signal.

Jungkook hadn’t fastened his seatbelt. It was unknown if he had forgotten about it or lost his mind, thinking he had traveled back to when you still fastened his seatbelt.

Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen again. The only thing you could do was remind him about it.

“Buckle up,” you clenched his jaw. ‘Buckle up’ was the second thing you had said to Jungkook after many years of not seeing each other. You two were at the facade of The Guild earlier. Jungkook was rooted on the ground for a long time, thinking he had gone insane to imagine you waiting for him just like before.

But when he returned to his senses, you were still standing before him, and then you opened your car door, gesturing for Jungkook to hop in.

Jungkook didn’t know what kind of demon (presumably the greedy one) had possessed him to enter your car.

Blame it on his brain that short-circuited, relying only on what happened years ago. He didn’t even hesitate. He just got the hell in, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

What was unnatural was how he tried to fasten his seatbelt. He was a bit drunk, after all. His brain was working slower than usual. Jungkook buckled up while wearing the thick yellow Ronald McDonald gloves.

It took him seven tries before realizing that he should remove the gloves, but before he could, you had already leaned closer, buckling the seatbelt for him.

So much for not helping Jungkook, huh?

Since you were close, your unfamiliar scent assaulted Jungkook’s nose. Gone was the soft fabric conditioner that usually stained your clothing. It was replaced by something expensive that seduced someone instead of overwhelming their senses.

Jungkook suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. In all honesty, it wasn’t just him. The strong smell of alcohol on Jungkook terrorized you—instantly turning your mood sour.

“You are drunk.” You moved away, focusing on driving once again. Your hand clenched the steering wheel tighter.

Jungkook didn’t speak. He knew how much you hated it when he drank. It brought you pain and memories from the past you’d rather forget.

Jungkook trembled just thinking about those harrowing memories. Meanwhile, despite your apparent anger, you still turned on the car’s heater when you noticed Jungkook shivering; this awakened another memory.

Once, Jungkook couldn’t stop complaining about how hot it was inside your old car, so you, completely crazy over him, brought out a folding fan to help Jungkook cool down.

It was ridiculous and sweet at the same time. Imagine driving with one hand while using the other to fan the annoying person in the passenger seat. Jungkook didn’t have the heart to see you suffer like this, so he snatched the folding fan from you and fanned himself. Besides, it was dangerous.

Looking back, you had always risked many things to make him happy. Jungkook’s heart throbbed at this realization.

So many years had passed, but you still found a way to care about him.

Jungkook found that he couldn’t take it. He wanted to get away right now.

“Where are we going?” He asked. Only now did he realize how stupid he was to get into this car.

You opened your mouth to speak, then closed it again. You wanted to say something but changed your mind at the last minute.

“Where do you live? I will bring you home.”

“No need.” Jungkook turned you down in a heartbeat. Who would have thought you would clench your jaw and disagree?

“You are drunk. I am bringing you home.”

Jungkook inhaled sharply. There must be something wrong with his head when he wished to see you. Your relationship was severed years ago. You two no longer understood each other. Just look at you—even your way of speaking changed. Jungkook’s tooth ached while listening to you talk formally.

But in the end, Jungkook told you the way home—just not his exact address.

“I’ll be okay here. The streets going to my apartment are narrow. Your car won’t be able to get in.” This wasn’t a lie. Jungkook lived in the poorest area of the city. Going there would only burden you, especially because many gangs waited there. They did not appreciate newcomers. Besides, your car was too flashy. You might end up walking home with a stab wound.

Thinking about that ugly scene, Jungkook shivered again. “Seriously. Just drop me off here. I’m not that drunk, okay?”

It was meant to be a reassuring statement, but your face turned ashen upon hearing that. The rims of your eyes even went red.

Jungkook touched on a sensitive topic that made your heart beat like a drum. He expected you to lash out just like before, but contrary to Jungkook’s thoughts, you simply pursed your lips like you were enduring something painful.

And then you finally stopped the car.

“Contact me.” You handed a calling card to Jungkook. The latter hesitated to receive it because for what? Why did you two need to contact each other again?

You sensed his hesitation. Your grip on the calling card constricted. You almost pushed it to Jungkook’s chest.

“Give me yours,” you demanded as if you knew your former best friend would never call you.

Jungkook held his sneer. He didn’t have a business card. Nobody would want them, so what’s the purpose of printing?

“I’ll call you.” Jungkook snatched the business card and hastily opened the door. He got out in the blink of an eye.

You were stunned but didn’t stop him.

“Thank you for the ride. Happy New Year. See you around.” A lie. He would not see you ever again.

It was too embarrassing. Jungkook was not used to feeling his heart beat crazy again. He was an old man now. He couldn’t handle intense emotions.

Seeing you after a long separation opened wounds he thought had already healed.

He fooled himself. He was a clown.

Literally.

Jungkook went straight to the comfort room of his apartment. His system really knew how to cooperate, huh? He was only vomiting now that he was out of your judgmental stares.

But really, could he blame you? Jungkook also looked at his reflection in the mirror, judging his clown self. He wished the brown patches in the mirror could cover it whole.

He didn’t want to see his face—didn’t want to think that he really met you while wearing the Ronald McDonald mascot costume.

Jungkook: “...”

Jungkook punched the mirror.

And then let out an animalistic groan.

Jungkook hated physical pain, but he had a rush of dopamine seeing his hand bleed.

His thought of wanting to die was unleashed. He suppressed his pain and anger for years but couldn’t hold on any longer.

Just for today, Jungkook wanted to let it out. It was New Year, after all. He swore this was the last time he’d cling to his past.

And so he punched the mirror one more time. It hurt. It hurt so much that he wanted to cry or die.

Jungkook collapsed on his bed, breathing heavily.

Breathed in.

A tear fell.

Breathed out.

More tears.

He couldn’t die, so he just cried until he fell asleep.

***

Jungkook was jolted awake the next day by the banging on his apartment door. The sound was piercing, perfectly and annoyingly matching his pounding head.

A groan escaped Jungkook’s lips. He had to drag his heavy body to open the door. His eyes were still bleary from having woken up, and before he could properly look at the person in front of him, a knife had already penetrated his skin.

“Good morning, Jungkook-ah. I’ve come collecting debts~” The person who stabbed Jungkook had a saccharine voice, but the killing intent mixed in it was apparent.

Jungkook touched his aching stomach, unable to pay attention to the intruder. He looked at his hand; two colors were mixed together, giving an illusion of something hopeless and terrifying: reddish-brown, the color of dried blood from punching the mirror last night, and now fresh red blood stained his fingers.

Jungkook had been stabbed and was pushed to the ground before he could groan in pain.

“Why the long face, Jungkook-ah? Aren’t you happy?” The intruder mocked.

Jungkook was familiar with this intruder. He was Lee Sung. This man collected debts on behalf of Jang Min, his master.

“Eh? You’re not answering me? Jungkook-ah, it’s New Year. Where’re your manners? Haven’t you learned anything?” Lee Sung sneered, hauling Jungkook to his feet only to slam him against the wall.

Jungkook cursed internally: Bastard, yes, it’s fucking New Year. Won’t you give me a break!? But as usual, he couldn’t voice out his indignation. He didn’t have the energy and power to do so.

Powerless people had no voice. If there was one thing Jungkook learned in life, it was to act according to what the one in power wanted. It would make his life easy because he didn’t see the point of fighting when he knew he would lose from the start.

“You promised to pay eleven thousand yen for this month’s interest. Where’s the money~?”

Jungkook screwed his eyes shut. He lost track of the amount of interest accumulating in his debt. He didn’t even know how much the principal amount was. How could he remember? He was drowning in debt. Would you care how many times the waves hit you? No, right? You would only think about surviving or grasping for a life jacket.

His current life jacket amounted to nine thousand yen, so that’s exactly what he said.

“I have ₩9000 with me,” Jungkook’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. Cold sweat slid down his spine. “Can I...pay the remaining amount next week? I swear I—”

Lee Sung slashed Jungkook’s exposed collarbone with a knife, possibly to get him to stop bargaining.

“Of course, Jungkook-ah. I’m a generous man, don’t you know?” The lunatic with a weapon slashed another layer of Jungkook’s skin. “But I’m afraid I must cut your skin twice. One for each won you cannot pay today. Seems fair?”

Without waiting for an answer, Lee Sung already hurt Jungkook. The latter didn’t fight back. By the time the intruder was done, he had spat on Jungkook’s face and then pushed him.

The wooden floor creaked as Jungkook’s trembling body fell down.

“See you next week. Prepare the money, or I’ll have to cut your throat the next time we meet.” And then Lee Sung was gone.

Jungkook gritted his teeth, clutching his bleeding stomach. He had to call for an emergency before he lost consciousness. Unfortunately, his phone was on the bed. He struggled to crawl just to reach for his phone.

Perhaps the universe saw how helpless he was that he was granted exceptional luck: he had managed to call for help before his hand lost all power, dropping his phone as darkness clouded his vision.

***

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A/N: Please leave a like or comment if you enjoy reading this fic. It motivates me to write faster. Thank you ~~

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #ficswithluv #btsjungkook #bts fic #daddy jungkook #jungkook x yn #jungkook x female reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook x you #jungkook friends to lovers #jungkook au #pseudo cheating

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byfulcrums · 2 years

Text

Things that have definitely been said in YJ (the Cartoon)

M'gann: WAIT WALLY DON'T EAT- that....

Kaldur: Wally, that was a highly dangerous and toxic object. You should go immediately to the hospital

Wally, with his mouth full of one of M'gann's failed attempts at mixing martian and human cuisine: Mmmhph????

The team: *Arguing*

Tim, whispering to himself: We don't kill we don't kill we don't kill we don't kill we don't kill-

Kaldur: Your opinion is valid, yes, but given it is a stupid ass opinion, I have elected to ignore it

Wally, following Artemis around the place, gesturing wildly: Yeah but if you add water to water it grows, right? It makes sense, Artemis, it makes sense–

Artemis, covering her ears and groaning: *Whispers* I hate every single one of you

Dick, filming the whole thing: *Snorts and accidentally chokes on his saliva, causing him to fall on the floor coughing like crazy*

Conner, having just walked into the room: ...Nope. Bye. I'm leaving this team

Artemis: Honestly I think Dick Grayson is way better than Bruce Wayne

M'gann: He's also more handsome, not gonna lie...

Wally: *Laughing his ass off on the floor*

Dick, curled up inside the vents, holding his head with his hands: Worthless... you are all worthless...

Conner, unaware of heterosexuality because CADMUS didn't teach him all that stuff: Wait, girl's aren't supposed to like girls? And boys aren't supposed to love boys? But I thought humans were called ‘homosapiens’

Zatanna: Oh my god-

Wally: I'm so smart. The smartest person here, if you will

Artemis: ...“sHoULdN't wE cAll sTrAiGht pEoPlE hEtERoSaPiEnS?”

Wally: Shut up shut up shutupshutup SHUT UP-

Kaldur, sighing: I just- I just want to know why you threw Wally off the mountain

Conner: Wally dared me to. It was consensual

Kaldur: Conner that doesn't make it any better.

Zatanna: I have decided to blame every kind of emotional instability I've having on my period. I don't have it yet, but I'm about to, so it counts

Kaldur: *Sigh* What did you do

Kaldur: Wally GET OFF THE CEILING honestly I should not have to say that...

Jaime: Fuck.

Bart: Double fuck.

Both of them at the same time: Triple fucking fuck

Wally: Hey, who's the stupidest one here?

Everyone else: You

Wally: Oh

Wally: And that's how you finish this equation!

Artemis: Wait you know science?

Wally: ...yes? Did you think I didn't go to school?

Artemis: No, no, it's just that if I had to think of someone who is an expert in science I wouldn't think of you

Wally: Well that's just rude. Hey M'gann, do I look like I didn't go to school?

Artemis: I didn't say you didn't go to-

Conner, immediately appearing: Yes

Wally:

Zatanna: Oh yeah! I remember when a branch on fire almost fell on me. We were camping. It was a big branch.

Zatanna:

Zatanna: I almost died.

Dick, didn't get any sleep in two days: Milk is... bone juice. Calcium...

Wally, also didn't get any sleep in two days: I feel like I should be concerned about that statement but honestly I'm interested

M'gann, who cannot stand being around them while they're sleep deprived: Both of you. Sleep. Now. Please

Dick: Baby

Tim: What

Dick: Baby... baby brother. Baby

Tim: No

Jason, has been Robin for almost three months now, training with the team and having to pretend to be a ‘villain’: I will hold your decapitated head in front of your weeping mother and hang it on her ceiling so that you will never get any rest even after death! :D

The team:

Wally: Dick, what are you feeding this child?

Kaldur after Wally and Dick pranked the team: Violence is not the question nor the answer, but sometimes we must take drastic measures

Kaldur, handing Jason a sword: This is war.

#young justice #young justice cartoon #wally west #dick grayson #kaldur'ahm #m'gann m'orzz #jason todd #tim drake #jaime reyes #bart allen #conner kent #artemis crock #zatanna #dc

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salmonellatrenchcoat · 2 months

Text

Every time someone describes Rimmer as blue eyed, a little part of me dies.

#ass milk is valid #red dwarf #arnold rimmer #rimster #hella gay #he's a beautiful brown eyed man oh my god im so gay for him #arnold judas rimmer #Alexander the great's cheif Eunuch

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namazunomegami · 8 months

Text

Into the Void

Pairing: Geto Suguru x gn!reader

Synopsis: Geto is so succumbed to his ideals that you have no choice but to run. But the hunt for you is more than a simple chase. It's resurrection. It's repentance. Just like in the parable of the lost sheep.

CW: canon compliant, established relationship, predator/prey, injuries, blood, toxic dynamics, heavy religious symbolism, emotional distress, dissociation, tiny bit of hurt/comfort, yandere behavior, Geto is a manipulative ass how surprising

WC: 5.2k whoops

Credits: my dear @notveryrussian for proofreading but tbh I should start calling you my editor from now on lmao. I'm glad you enjoyed my sneak peeks so much 💕

Song rec: since I can't control myself, I picked 3 songs by Nine Inch Nails that gives the perfect vibes to the story. For the exposition, I recommend Heresy, mostly because the lyrics resonates with the reader's thoughts about Geto. For the escape/chase part, I picked Eraser for the creepy vibes and reader's slowly deterioriating sanity. For the closing part, I picked A warm place because it's a comforting yet a bit gloomy track

A/N: Saying that this idea possessed me is an understatement. Initially I only wanted to put effort into the whole chase scene but obviously I started to add lore into the whole thing. And since they grew on me and I simply love their dynamic, a part 2 is on the way yaaay.

Minors shall not interact unless they wanna get punched.

And a usual warning for dark content. I wanted to keep it mild but I couldn't. Maybe I'm a lil bit too skilled when it comes to writing about fear.

It’s all too painful to think that maybe running away with Geto wasn’t the best idea.

Of course you loved him, you loved the twins too and the makeshift family you created, it really healed some of the wounds you received in the past. But you wished it would’ve stayed that way. Living together, somewhere far away, isolated, in peace. Have a fresh start, build a nest for the four of you and fill it up with love.

But he had other plans.

There were a lot of improvements in the initial phase of your plans. Building community, uniting the herd. You enjoyed some reverence from the followers too. Eventually the initial number of breakthroughs began to stagnate, despite all the effort. It became routine, like you were being dragged through the same day for years and years without end. When you were faced with even more setbacks, you started to realize that you basically never left the temple and it soon began to feel like a cage. Golden and holy. It was draining to see people lose their sense of individuality and how he became their only source of validation. It was torment. Living life as an idol of worship tucked into a forgotten corner of a church. Praised like a twisted Gothic Madonna with a blue cloth over your head, but in reality you weep, you’re their Mater Dolorosa, with swords piercing your sorrowful heart.

The most devastating thing about realizing you’re not fit to run a cult, is the fact that you lack the most understated yet important aspect of it: believing in the agenda you want to spread. How could you guide all those helpless, simple-minded sheep while questioning whether your destination is real or not? Maybe that Canaan has nothing to do with milk and honey, instead it’s just a pile of rubble.

You soon got tired of it all. His drive, his goal, all too impossible to achieve. Maybe he knew he could never make it happen, but it consumed him regardless. You’ve lost the most cherished parts of him to his hatred, his deeply repressed rage against any injustices he had to deal with after the infamous Star Plasma incident.

You weren’t sure about your feelings towards Geto anymore. Were you afraid of him? Angry at him? Bitter? Disappointed? Worried? It all turned into mush, a grotesque, black liquid as the thin walls of the temple slowly made you feel like they were closing in on you. You had no idea how much time you had, until your unresolved feelings will taint the whole place.

You always circled back to the worst possible action to protect your soft, aching heart… When you thought that nothing will change for the better, you wanted to run away. You wanted to hide. The ambivalence of your feelings towards him weighed on your heart and conscience, like a thousand stones. You loved him, yet you loathed what has become of him. Despite that you trusted him with the map of your soul, made it through all the highs and lows of your relationship so far, all the deep abysses of pain and suffering.

Maybe you should run, just for the sake of it. To test how it will make you feel. Will it make you feel freed? At ease? Will it lift the weights on your chest? Will this sense of incoming doom vanish?

Maybe you should find Gojo. He wouldn’t condemn you, but he would be disappointed. If you set your judgement and resentment to aside, he’s the only one who can talk with the higher ups to scratch your name off the list of curse users who are on death row.

How much time did you need to forge your plan? Not even a single minute. It was only natural for you to memorize everybody’s routine, how to distinguish the sound of their steps, to pick a timeframe when nobody is lurking around the halls. The first (and probably last) time you were glad those who have hurt you gave you a skill, besides the ability to harness cursed energy of course. They made you stealthy, alert, observant.

And when Geto left you to cater to his followers, you decided to put your plan into action.

Your body is strung tight with the tension of waiting, agitation making you feel as if you were unraveling at the seams - but something deep inside of your mind pleaded for you to stay. Agony and anxiety were plaguing you until you’ve found enough courage to get up and sneak out. Now, you had the chance to show off everything you’ve learned: sliding the doors shut so slowly that they don’t make a noise, walking down the corridors with socked feet, carefully putting the middle parts of your feet on the floor, instead of your heels, easily avoiding those parts that creak.

Sometimes, when he was immersed in his thoughts, he was amused by how faint your steps sounded.

An involuntary instinct warns you. It’s trying to convince you that he can see you through the eyes of bodhisattvas residing in the thangka paintings decorating the walls. You almost give up your quest as you glance at the depiction of Vajrabhairava. In all its anger, with its six faces and twelve limbs. A dreadful beast that defies death itself.

You don’t want to do this to him, do you?

You look away from the painting, focusing on getting your shoes on and climbing out through the window. As you’re squatting on the windowpane, you can see all of Tokyo stretched out beneath you. You’re a little bit annoyed that all temples are built on a mountain. A long way to go, but you can never know when this place will turn into a funeral pyre.

It’s a little bit too easy. There’s no sign of surveillance curses nearby, you only need to slide down on the wet tiles, jump up high, land in the mud and let yourself be swallowed by the darkness of the forest. You specifically picked your least conspicuous clothes to blend into your surroundings perfectly. And the cold and murky night will let you go safely. The leaves will conceal your tracks.

So many things are working in your favor tonight.

You know there’s no need to rush. You can only draw attention to yourself if you are running around, creating noise and disturbing the wildlife. You don’t even use a flashlight, you have to get used to the darkness, the full Moon will guide you with all her dazzling light. And after that, Tokyo will do the same, with its crowded streets and all its places to hide.

There’s a weird kind of tranquility in your heart. How the cold prickles your skin, the moisture in the air, the faint noise of the creatures dwelling under the leaves, up in the trees, singing, chirping, crawling. The scent of wet soil, the gentle caress of the wind…

Now, you feel free.

As you walk deeper and deeper into the woods, you feel lighter, you feel like you could fly away, like you could dance all the way towards your destination. You’re thinking about actually doing that, as if you got possessed by a strange spirit…

But the uneven, slippery ground makes you fall right into the mud. You squirmed a little, trying to get hold of a tree trunk and then…

Silence, dead silence.

Your heart sinks deep in your chest.

You know what it means. When nature falls silent. There’s…

There’s a threat nearby.

A primal instinct tells you to run.

There’s no way, there’s no fucking way that he already noticed you were gone.

Twigs whip at your skin as you’re running mindlessly. Wherever you end up, it will be fine, as long as you can enter the outskirts of the city. The cold night air stings your throat, your heaving breath leaves your mouth in puffy clouds. You feel the urge to cough, deep from your bone-dry lungs.

The ground beneath you turns soft and steep. You lose your poise, stumbling and rolling all the way down until you fall from a high clod of rain-washed soil. Your body collides with a cold, wet, yet incredibly hard and flat surface, fraying the skin on your palm and face. Your back and shoulders will be bruised by tomorrow, painting your body with black and blue spots. The pain ripples through your entire being, paralyzing you for a couple of moments.

As you slowly gathered your battered self from the ground with a grunt, you realize you landed on a road. It’s a good sign, you’re not so far from civilization. But instead of following the road, cutting through the forest is the wiser decision.

Your relief is short-lived, just like a may fly.

A sinister feeling takes hold on you. It makes you freeze, squeezing your insides. Like you’re sitting in the jaw of an eldritch beast. You slowly turn back to the direction of your fall.

The lights are flickering.

You grab on the guardrail for dear life. You try to fill your lungs with shaky breaths, your heart desperately beating against your ribcage. Your trembling knees barely keep you upright, yet nothing can make you move. You have been found, you’re defeated, there’s no point in running away from him. The injuries, the already forming bruises will only deplete your strength.

How could you fight him? You’re aware that if he wanted to, he could break your bones and twist your body at the joints with an arm behind his back.

How could you outrun him? He’s capable of summonning a swarm of curses before you even take a step.

How could you make war with him?

Three of the lamp lights were already out, you stared into the darkness, the boundless abyss right before your eyes. You can’t even force yourself to blink.

And when the lights came back on, he was just standing there. Without breaking a sweat. Your pulse feels non-existent.

What infuriated you even more was that he wasn’t wearing his gojo-kesa. The motherfucker even gave you a head start by changing into something comfortable before he came to fetch you. Or simply he noticed your absence later than you expected.

Whatever, both is bad news for you.

He doesn’t utter a single word, he merely walks towards you. Slowly cornering you. Feasting on the terror on your face. Meanwhile you can’t unravel what could possibly be going on in his mind. The only thing you notice is that those violet sparks in his eyes are so sharp they could cut yours out of their sockets.

Should you give up? Should you beg for forgiveness?

But then, an idea blooms inside your mind.

You don’t hide your fear, you let your body tremble freely, fingers desperately clinging onto the metal, with your shoulders hunched to protect your neck and your wide, frightened eyes stare back at him. Letting him believe that you won’t fight back. That he can take you back to the temple and throw you back into your cage.

And when his foot hits the bisector, you jump. Right into the nothingness behind your back.

You fall on leaves and broken twigs again. You roll and roll with such speed you can’t comprehend the growing distance. Not even having an idea of how far you’re from him. Small rocks, branches, hardened roots of trees, bones all cut, scratch and pierce you. But you endure it, you’ll undergo any torture if it meant you’ll be freed. Your only hope is that the adrenaline will deal with the pain.

Suddenly, you violently crash into a tree, the ridged texture imprints deeply into your stomach. Acid bursts from your throat. Your diaphragm didn’t avoid the hit either, breathing is not unlike Sisyphean task as you try to get your shaking limbs to stand. Your mind is disturbed by the lack of air and your desperate attempts at getting yourself together. You’re wheezing like a dog. You must look pathetic, you think.

It takes almost all of your mental strength to calm down and slowly breathe through your nose, your lungs finally opening. But Geto won’t let you recover, you hear the fallen leaves getting crushed under his feet. You take a few sharp, ragged breaths, like it’s the last drag of a cigarette before the train comes and then, you move.

You hide behind a thick pine tree, palms covering your mouth and nose. The lack of oxygen is just another frustrating hindrance to your successful escape plan. Dizziness fills your head like a thick fog and sucks the strength out of your shins, needing to lean against the trunk to keep yourself standing. You try to conceal your cursed energy with all your might. A tracker who’s untraceable is a useful pawn in the hands of the higher ups, this skill made you a cherished student back in the day. Back when everything was so… no, it’s only the nostalgia making you wistful, it wasn’t any better.

The rustling gets quieter, you wait until the sound eventually dies. An almost muted sigh of relief leaves your lips in a thick cloud, dancing in the cold air.

From the corner of your eye, a floating form cuts through the pale moonlight.

Looking closely at its shape, you realize what kind of curse it is. The beetle looking one that attacks instantly once it senses movement. You can’t believe it, you’re going to -

The curse drags itself into your aura, scanning your form that is fused with the pine. Every muscle is tensed, you’re stiff as a board, you suppress every reflex in your eye and empty chest. You’re just like a statue, a corpse, showing no signs of life. Only an agonizing scream echoes inside your skull. A scream that puts mental breakdowns to shame.

It’s like an eternity until the curse finally disappears from your sight.

You definitely look exhausted, your body is limp and heavy like lead. But you must keep going at all costs, even if you have no idea how many curses are sent after you. You walk around the mountain instead of going down like he’d expect it.

Slowly yet surely, you calm yourself down. You know that you’re still in his grasp, but you still have a chance to outsmart him. You go deeper and deeper, you’re near the heart of the forest now. The moonlight barely crawls through the leaves, it’s easier to navigate according to what you hear rather than to what you see. The surroundings are growing eerie, you ache for light and warmth. And the longing sucks a bit of spirit out of you.

Before you can start questioning yourself, the sound of running water fills your ears.

A narrow, yet fast running stream plowed through the forest. Though you were unsure of staying close to the stream, going through it and getting to the other side sounds like a smart idea. As you take a reluctant step, you realize the water is ice cold. And when you dive into it further, enduring the strong current, it’s not as shallow as you believed. You’re submerged all the way up to your thighs. At its deepest point, the stream hugs your waist. The cold makes your movements slow and rigid, your teeth clang together in a frenzy. The bottom is filled with smooth, flat pebbles, they make it easy to -

You slip on the rounded, polished stones and fall into the stream. The freezing temperature makes your skin shrink, it prickles you like a thousand needles. Scared, you crawl around the bottom, trying to get a hold of something and emerge back to the surface. A sharp, burning pain wakes in your palm, tears streaming down your cheeks. You try to swallow your scream, but it wants to burst from your lungs, you grunt and whimper until you can bite down on your sweatshirt, letting the material muffle your shout. Your gaze fixates on your hand and even in the darkness of the night, you see blood oozing from the deep cut, from your own torn flesh. The urge to retch is strong.

You palm is plunged back into the cool water, in hope of easing the pain.

He calls out your name right behind you.

You crawl out of the water, running from him, just as before. It doesn't matter how many times you trip, fall, stumble. It doesn’t matter how your fresh wounds end up in the mud, you don’t have it in you care about the pain or the looming threat of an infection. You hear him trying to reason with you. You must come back home, you’re injured, you’re bleeding. He must take care of you.

Why are you running? Where could you go? Who’s going to help you recover?

No, you mustn’t let your determination crumble. But oh… it sounds so easy. Giving in to your hopelessness.

An evergreen bush becomes your shelter to collect yourself and check on your wound, which is aching from all the dirt and is still bleeding. Water is dripping from your hair, your clothes are soaked, makes it easier for the cold night air to bite into you, to shake the whole length of your body. Your fingers are hardly moving and have no strength in them. The adrenaline is starting to wear off. You feel alone, small, and vulnerable. You’re freezing, scarred and aching. All the things you see in the dark twist into creepy, threatening forms. Everything that surrounds you is suddenly dangerous. As a lonely spider crawls within your field of vision, you flinch. The world around you is evil and everything is after your flesh.

And the only person who can save you is the one you’re running away from.

What are you going to do now? Fight, flight, or freeze? Which instinct is going to win this time? Because comprehensible thoughts won’t work on you. Every little layer of a fully-fledged human with a conscience has been stripped from you. You left them scattered everywhere in the woods. You’re nothing more than a primordial shell of a being.

Ceremonial horns wake in the distance, soon followed by howling. They let the dogs out to hunt you down. Poor, little hare. Your own stupidity has woken up the beast.

Who is like unto the beast?

You defeat the paralyzing dread and decide on flight. You dash out from the bushes, but - Oh… your eye. Your soft doe eye. There’s something in it. And your tears have an oddly metallic taste on your tongue.

And power was given him over all kindreds, and tongues, and nations.

You wish you could see yourself from the outside, but you’re probably nowhere near as majestic as you think you are. Right now you feel like you’re the fastest, stealthiest creature who’s ever lived, even if your muscles are almost torn, weak, and tensed. This is the last crumb of your strength, this is your all.

And all that dwell upon the earth shall worship him.

You don’t dare to look back. You know he’s there. He’s so close, he’s orbiting around you like a moon does with its planet. As if all of this is a dance. A hunt is a dance with a coital rhythm. And mother nature is the audience to your deadly waltz.

And he doeth great wonders, so that he maketh fire come down from heaven on the earth in the sight of men.

He takes your hand in his. Gentle and kind. To not scare you any further. You snap like an electric current under his touch, but you break free and zigzag between the trees.

He grabs your waist. Forcefully. It scares you this time. You escape from his embrace before he can swallow you whole. But he might have bit your throat during the process, you feel something trailing down your collarbones. You hear your bones crack.

It was all a mistake. You are a mistake. But mistakes can be forgiven, right? He has forgiven you so many times, you can’t even think of a number.

You slide down on a slope, leaves stick to your clothes, and you drop onto a thick trunk of a fallen oak. Tensive pain ripples in your side. You should stand up and run, but you can’t move. You won’t move. What’s wrong with you? What kind of prey gives the fight up before its last breath? But you think about your frozen limbs, the pain in your palm, your back, your shoulder blades, everywhere. You think about home… you want to go home or be left here to die. But the thought of dying here, alone, makes your heart palpitate rapidly, like there’s not enough air to fill your lungs. Your breathing becomes desperate, panicked even. Your chest hurts, your ribcage is ready to break apart by your racing heartbeat. You press your palms against your head, clawing into your hair. Every little morsel of you is bursting into a tremor. The connection between your mind, your body and the world cease to exist. And that lovely, unlimited stretch of space inside your consciousness is shaken, it’s in utter chaos. Breaking into tiny little pieces, like glass, like porcelain. Tears and plucks like paper and fabric. Shrieks and wails, rejecting the only thing that makes all creatures on this plane of existence agitated over their own mortality.

You’re doomed.

Unconsciously, your limbs curl into the very same position you took when you saw the world for the first time, protecting your belly and face, making you seem small. Geto knows you only do that when you fear what might happen to you, despite being unaware of the kind of terror your brain had subjected you to. That’s why he approaches you slowly, making no sudden movements as he picks you up gently, like one would lift a porcelain figure from the ground. When you open your eyes, he had already settled you into his lap as the manta ray curse lifts the two of you up to mount the skies.

You have no idea if he hunted you down or saved you from your own demise.

What a defiant, ungrateful creature you are, you think. You tried so viciously to run away from your burden, and now you feel safe with him again, you dare clinging to him, you dare seek his warmth. The contradicting thoughts and desires torture you on the way back. There’s only one faint voice inside your head that’s capable of calming you down, able to keep your sanity intact…

You’re the lost sheep, and he’s the shepherd who searched all over the world to find you. And he’ll bring you back to the flock, and he’ll love you more than the rest of them.

Your false god. Your fallacious savior. Will he forgive you if you repent on your knees? Until they get bloody and bruised?

Back at the temple, he refuses to let you take even a step on your own. You weren’t born to run, to soil your soles with the ground that filthy monkeys walk on. You’re meant to be worshipped, to claim the whole world as yours beneath dainty, soft feet.

The warm lamplight and the comfort of your shared room helps you unwind. To shift back into a much more civilized, humanlike state. And as you practically glue yourself to the heater, you notice more dirt, more cuts, more blood marring your flesh than you expected.

When you take off your grimy sweatshirt, shoes, and socks, Geto is towering over you. There’s nothing imposing about him, he looks rather troubled as he sighs.

“What do I do with you?”

You roll your eyes. Oh, the good old rhetorical question. He has no idea if he should treat your wounds first, bathe you or break your leg just like the Gospel says.

“Come, let me take a look at your hand.”

You see your reflection in the mirror, and you’re horrified. Your right eye is bloodshot, a deep cut is splitting through your lower lip. You’re drenched in mud, already dried on your face along with some patches of wine dark blood. Together they seal the scraped skin on your cheek, makes your hair stick together into thick strands, accessorized with pine leaves and other remains from your little hike. You’re blistered and torn, you can barely recognize yourself.

It's pleasant to rinse your hands with warm water at the sink, but the sight makes your stomach twist. That nasty wound is too deep, it has to be sewn shut. A shiver races down on your spine when you see the first aid kit. He soaks a fresh gauze pad with wound solution and guides it towards the gaping cut with a pair of tweezers. The sting is horrible, the burning sensation rivals acid being poured straight into your flesh, it makes you grunt and hiss. He gives you a moment to breathe and collect yourself then he continues, despite your whimpers and twitching, tensed fingers. But the pain pales in comparison to when he swipes a new, clean pad inside your wound, cleaning it of all the filth. A pathetic cry erupts from your throat.

“Stop.” you sob, pulling your hand away to hug it close to your chest. You’re too distressed to realize that the temporary discomfort is necessary. But maybe this whole act is nothing but another one of his silly little games.

He places a finger under your eye, close to your lashes and collects your tears. The sight of you crying is somehow not worth of savoring to him. Before any little drop of your sorrow and regret can roll down your cheek like diamonds, he smears them, as if they could make your misery vanish. Well, they can’t. It frustrates you that you can’t let your feelings manifest because he’s ready to devour them just like his curses.

He doesn’t care that your face is caked in dirt, blood and tears, he lifts your chin up to kiss you. Deeply. You’re not reprimanded for not kissing him back.

You were right, he’s definitely toying with you. He makes it hurt before he soothes the ache. He creates a connection in your mind. Like you’re the dog of Pavlov, slowly conditioned to associate him with anything that makes the human heart fill with delight.

The tiles attract your attention much more than watching how the curved needle dives into your skin, how the thread closes the wound proficiently. Your features soften for a moment. Shoko would be so proud of him... Not for the reason he got so good at it though. He learnt to treat his wounds for the sole purpose of not letting a non-sorcerer doctor ever touch him.

He’s crazy. Vile. Petty. And delusional. It drives you crazy too.

But when your stitched hand is wrapped up in bandages, you seriously think about thanking him for putting up with you. For not being angry at you.

“Maybe this will make you reconsider your actions next time.” he remarks in a flat tone, concealing what’s going on in his mind.

You keep your gratitude to yourself.

But it’s not an easy task when he continues spoiling you, with so much care that it rivals motherly love. How he rinses all the grime out of your hair, how he gives you a moment of peace in a tub filled with plain, warm water, no bubbles or scented oils to irritate your scarred, sensitive skin. He dries you, brushes your hair and fills the whole bedroom with the calming notes of lavender and cedarwood coming from the incense burners. But he’s just so fixated on your injuries… every scratch, every surface level cut is thoroughly sanitized. It’s still humiliating, even when you’re the one sitting comfortably on the bed and he’s kneeling on the floor.

You’re afraid the extra pampering will twist your reasoning and resolve. That’s all part of the mind games he plays. You know he’ll go out on his way to prove that the world outside is cruel, that this is the only place where you’re safe, loved. In his proximity, under his hand.

And somewhere, deep down, you admit that he’s close to convincing you.

It makes you mad, you want to tear him to shreds, you want to weep for him just like Mary did under the cross. There’s still care, there’s still love under all those layers of burning hatred. What remains is twisted though, but it is there.

After you’re patched up, he glances up at you, thumb brushing your lip right next to that nasty cut. His other hand is resting where your thigh and knee meet. It’s a sign, a warning.

“Was it worth it, little lamb?” his tone is soothing and playful. So close to being outright mockery.

You reflect in silence, averting your gaze from him. All those scars and discolored skin, your disturbed mind, and the ache in your bones - you realize that your stupid little plan was futile. Totally unnecessary, it’s no achievement you can be proud of. At least if you’re not as masochistic as to pride yourself on your injuries. But the fact that he can recognize the parallels coats your answer with bile.

“No.”

Because you know that you can be so much more… There’re unlimited possibilities to a repented non-believer. And now you know that being his doubting Thomas has no benefits.

Maybe you did lose your faith in him, like the lamb in that story, to eventually realize how much you need him and vice versa. But you’re not satisfied with being a lost sheep. You just haven’t decided on your role in his Gospel yet. This is your call, you don’t know exactly which part of him calls out to you, but you’re satisfied with either of them. Whether it’s a prophet, a messiah, a beast, or the devil itself. The fallen Morningstar who used to be the favorite.

This can be your true Genesis.

“Go on, break my leg if you want to. There’s meaning in that, at least.” you dare echo his last words to Gojo, clean and low.

And your bones remain whole.

You’re relieved. Though you’re sick of his maneuvers with your mind, you’re aware their purpose is not to hurt you or punish you. These aching limbs of yours go limp as he crawls into bed next to you. The arm you were scared of coils around your waist. Viciously tight, much like a snake. The snake that corrupted Eve in the garden. The one that made her sin, got her cast out of paradise, the one that turned her whole world upside down. And maybe Eve did fall in love with the serpent, the worst creature that God had ever created. But even though he caused the fall of mankind, the serpent freed you from the clutches of a jealous, ungrateful god who denied knowledge from his own creations. Now you have the passion to rebel, to prove your creator wrong, to avenge his mistreatment. Give in to the temptation of your snake, believe his honeyed words, accept the fruit for a second time. Because you still remember the taste, oh so sweet and luscious. And with all the power he wields, you can win back your lost Eden or re-build it on earth, the home you’re both yearning for. It’s a promise between the two of you, silent, because words are not needed, only closure.

Something warm blooms inside your chest. Yes, that’s it! You can finally feel it now…

The very first ounce of belief.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #getou suguru x reader #jjk x reader #suguru geto x reader #idk why but geto is very downward spiral coded to me #fun fact the title is another song by nin lmao #and i dont delibaretely write him as a yandere but somehow i finish a fic and reread an then... whoops he's yandere #geto suguru x reader #meesa writes

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